


At the Gates of Avalon

by WaywardDesertKnight



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arthurian Legend, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Slightly More Modern, Alternate universe - canon divergent, Canon Typical Violence, Chronic Depression, Hypnos and Thanatos are Supreme Jerks, Individual chapters will have additional warnings in the heading if needed, Lost Canvas Compliant, M/M, More tags to follow, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shura has the best grandpa 10/10, non-graphic depictions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardDesertKnight/pseuds/WaywardDesertKnight
Summary: Camlann saw the end of Arthur but not his quest. Revived once more, his oldest friend tasks him once more with a great quest to reclaim the Holy Grail from the hands of those who would usurp even death. However in this new age and life, and cursed with a terrible destiny, can the reborn king rise to the occassion once more? Or shall it be the end of all things?





	1. Once Upon a Dream Ago...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things in this chapter include: Physical abuse/torture, period typical violence, and just Hypnos being an absolute grade A certified organic creeper.

The icy cave glittered in the cold, bluish green light of a floating candelabra. Just visible within the mirrored surface flicked images of people, vast numbers of them on a mud soaked battlefield in the middle of a downpour of cold rain. Horses shifted restlessly, hooves sinking into the mud the longer they stood. A few banners tried to catch in the wind but were thwarted by the rain weighing them down. Soldiers, some clad in crude armor with weapons struggled with the cold. Others, clad in sleek seamless armor, some glittering in metallic hues of bright bronze, silver, and gold offered what comfort they could. Those clad in dark jewel tones of blacks, purples, and greens radiated an aura of terror. What living people stood beside them cowered before these dark clad warriors.

In the middle of these echoes of memories of a time forgotten or a time to come stood a person, their short blond hair jutted out like the quills of a porcupine or the feathered crown of a bird of paradise. His dark robes slid along the ice, though they never dragged or frosted against it. He removed his glasses as his golden eyes that lacked any visible pupils took in the sight of the ensuing battle. Flashes of bright steel and starlight tore through the mist and twisted the very heavens as though the very cosmos themselves trembled before this battle.

“Aah Camlann, such a beautiful, blood soaked masterpiece. Bodies scattered across the field, a truly magnificent iteration of the Holy War indeed. Athena, fool that she is, clad in the form of an old man, bound to every bit of pain and suffering brought on by that most frail of mortal bodies. A form she cast off too late to be of any avail. Her Saints and allies lay dead about the battlefield. I seem to recall one particularly stubborn Gemini Saint reaching to protect a young Chameleon, unknowing her daughter had died already and she was soon to follow. You know how merciful of a god I am? Of course you do my sweet, beautiful doll.”

His gaze turned to a figure dangling from the ceiling into the center of the room, suspended from razor thin threads of bloody ice. The wolf had thick, matted black fur, muzzle bound by more of the wire. Their green eyes, the last sign of their true nature, were half lidded and listlessly staring down at the ground before them. He ran a long, pale fingered hand down one cheek in a mockingly fond gesture as he continued. He pushed their head towards the direction of the injured Saint on the wall, even as he savored the faint whine of pain as the wiry ice drew fresh blood.

“Naturally I felt the need to help her be reunited, not that she would have lasted much longer anyway, your beloved Basilisk had already turned her organs into a poisonous mess spattered across the mud and grass. He can be so vicious that one.”

Even as he spoke the scene shifted, a man in dented gold patina armor stood in the midst of the chaos, shouting and rallying the troops to him. A crown of woven gold sat atop his thick, dark curls as sweat glistened on his rich brown skin. The sword in his hand glowed with a faint light, reflecting brightly in his eyes as his army came to him. At his side stood an old man leaning upon a stick, but whose grey eyes shone as brightly as the blade he clasped.

“But then there was that foolish human king, Arthur Pendragon and wielder of the mighty sword Excalibur, forged for the Titanomachy and brought once more to bear in the wars of the gods. The hypocrisy of the thing astounds me, a blade of the gods that has the audacity to fall into mortal hands. A war goddess who abhors the tools of her own trade. Truly someone like that cannot be seen as anything other than an obstacle to be overcome. And overcome we did. Heh. It was glorious, Lord Hades, cleaved the so-called king’s head from his neck and rent the heart from his chest. A decisive blow, and one that should have ensured our victory. But no, Athena at last acted and drove us back. I have yet to discern how she managed to purge our Lord Hades vessel and banish us back beyond the gates. I did not sense the interference of the ‘mighty’ Zeus nor any other of the Olympians, and no minor god could ever even hope to touch us.”

He glared at the icy wall as the flickering images faded away. He stroked the matted fur, tugging it just enough to ensure the gesture was as uncomfortable as possible. Golden eyes closed for a moment as he thought, the light of the candelabra dimmed in response.

“Even now, even now…. There came an interesting rumor as the dead flowed into the Halls of Judgement after the battle. Saint and Specter who had lived to the end both told of a great red gilded gate and that Athena took Arthur’s soul as well as his favored servants to a place called Avalon, to await the time when they would be needed again. That lying little perversion of the natural order stole souls before they could pass on. Now you remember our dear friend, the Old One? Of course you do, he left you quite the impression, didn’t he? You still can’t see out of that eye, no matter how many times you try to kill yourself, can you? Heh heh heh.”

His thumb traced the thick layer of scar tissue before he locked eyes with the beast. Only one pupil reacted, bright and full of fear at the soft, melodic laugh. It was always a difficult decision, whether to gouge out that eye, rend them truly blind, or leave it be so that he could continue to enjoy that look of terror.

“Well, he was driven back from the Gates of Avalon, and he made quite the interesting discovery. I am sure you’re simply dying to know what it is right? Or then again not, seeing as how you are banished from death. No matter, for you see, he learned a vast power lies beyond those gates, a power akin to the Underworld, and to someday surpass it. You can see where this is going, yes?”

At that the beast thrashed about, thick, cold splatters of blood soaked the ice. It froze on contact to add to the expansive floor mural of dark crimson and pale blue ice.

“Oh don’t struggle, or do, you always look so beautiful when that last little bit of rebellion sparks in you-”

“Hypnos.” An identical voice cut him off from the entrance of the cave.

He craned his neck to see his silver haired twin at the front entrance of the cave. A pleased smirk played on his lips as he approached Hypnos. Something good must have happened indeed for Thanatos to come all the way here to tell him in person. “Oh what is it now, brother? Surely it can wait until after playtime is over? Unless you wanted a turn? Our favorite toy is feeling particularly feisty today.”

“Leave it for now, I’ve received word that the soul of Uther Pendragon has been found and has gone to the Lethe to drink of the waters.”

At Thanatos’s words, the walls around them flickered to life once more in the dim light. The banks of the Lethe appeared, cold waters flanked by black sanded beaches. Lines of human souls who had escaped their torment or finished their sentence drifted along the edge of the water before they stooped to drink. While Hypnos and Thanatos had gradually shaped the Underworld more to their liking to instill fear and awe into humanity, they recognized that the Underworld still had a fundamental function to serve, namely that of maintaining the balance of life and death. A delicate equilibrium existed between the two. For now.

Among the souls, one floated along, limned in a soft grey light. An old king, bowed with age and wisdom, stooped to the water. His ghostly hands cupped a mouthful and drew it to his lips. As he drank, his spirit began to fade and drift out across the river to begin another life. Athena had missed her chance to take him to Avalon, and with any luck would not make the same mistake twice.

Hypnos abandoned his petting with a smile. “Excellent. Icelus, Oneiros, Phantasmos, Morpheus, I’m going out for a bit. The toys are yours if you wish to play while I’m gone.”

Out of a doorway that appeared in the ice came four people, the smallest of whom stepped forward and looked at the gagged prisoner with a bored pout.

“But Father, why would we want to play with your broken toys?” She prodded at the good eye and earned a squeal of pain for her effort.

“It’s in a feistier mood than usual today, Phantasmos, and you have all been so clever in the past, so why not see if you can play a new game with it while we are gone?” Hypnos encouraged with a warm, gentle smile.

A bright smile crossed her face at that. “Of course!”

As the brothers exited the cave, the sound of very human screams filled the air. They passed up and out into a frozen wasteland much like how the Cocytus river plain had become a glacier when Hypnos had killed the river god. The ground sealed over in a flurry of snow as nightmarish creatures prowled around, all hissing and bowing when the two gods approached. They stepped through a mirror and into an office. Hypnos stepped around his desk and looked out a window to the expanse of the Underworld beyond the palace of Judecca.

“The Road will soon be open, and when the time comes, we shall stand at the Gates of Avalon.”

~

_The Fates however had other plans for the Twin Gods of Sleep and Death and their kin._

~

The Dream Gods’ torture of the beast ceased some time after. Alone once more in the darkness of the cave, the beast’s ragged breathing stilled. Hypnos and his kin often left their captive alone for years on end, after all, living people were not meant to experience the full madness of the Dreaming. However, slowly, by creeping inches the power of the Dreaming began to wane and slip, a change heralded by a brief calamitous flare of Cosmo before silence fell once more.

The prison greatly resembled the first cage the beast had endured at the headwaters of the Cocytus river when it had first turned glacial. A massive power blanketed the area, and when combined with the frigid wires, it made for an even more impregnable prison. The beast waited, he’d learned to exercise patience and caution. The weight that had long suppressed his Cosmo slowly began to lift, inch by inch. Careful and quiet, in case this was a trap of some sort, the beast flicked his Cosmo into the wires and sliced through them by twisting the frigid air around them into an impossibly thin blade.

He stumbled as he landed, crumpled in a heap of paws. It took time for him to remember how to walk, but as he crept out of the cell and up through the narrow passage out into the nightmare wastes, the fear that this was another of the Dream Gods or Hypnos’s games gnawed at his very bones. His first task was to find a way out, and then to get help… but he also had to hide, to heal, and to grow strong enough to rescue his Queen once and for all. Somewhere away from where Hypnos and his ilk held sway. His trail of pawprints disappeared into the swirling snow, and his wretched form disguised him among the nightmares, who now roamed dazed and lost through the endless storm.

The storm battered him badly, and at last when he found an exit he collapsed just outside of the great stone gates. The rows upon rows of dream gates that expanded in all directions made his heart sink, even with his escape from the Realm of Nightmares, the Dreaming itself was unreachable to most. Beyond exhausted and demoralized, he hauled himself once more to his weary feet and stumbled along aimlessly past the gates.

As he collapsed again, his chest heaved, before panic set in. If he slept now then Hypnos would find him, or worse, he would find he hadn’t actually left the chamber at all. He spooked to his feet, now in a mad dash away from the spot where he had almost fallen asleep. As such he collided with a glowing golden figure, clad in dappled gold and white, armor resembling that of an owl.

He skidded to a halt as he regained his feet and growled, tail tucked firmly between his legs and back arched. His fur fluffed as his head lowered, ears flat against his head. However the newcomer knelt and offered out a hand, radiating an aura of peace and hope.

“Well met, young Specter.” The person smiled, light, feminine voice soothing, which only added to his suspicions. “My name is Owl Partitia, I’m a servant of the Lady Athena, and I swear on the River Styx I mean you no harm. I am not a servant of Hypnos or Thanatos in disguise.”

An oath sworn on the Styx was unbreakable, and as such he took some comfort. He straightened out his tail, wagging cautiously as he approached. She let him sniff her hand before she brought it to rest in his thick ruff. “I’m afraid I’ve little time, and I must ask much of you. Do you wish to save your Queen?”

“More than anything.” His soft voice rasped. “Please, what must I do?”

Partitia smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Shall we begin?”


	2. A Twist in the Myth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things in this chapter include: depression, references to physical and emotional abuse, and PTSD.

The mid-morning sun filtered down through the clouds that made up the marine layer over Athens and by extension Sanctuary. Near the top of the hill, Gold Saint Capricorn Zuzen Sendoa Arturo Cabrera, more commonly known now by his childhood nickname of Shura, paused and looked out over the stronghold of the servants of the goddess Athena. A place of strength and peace, born on a lie and treason, his treason.

Shura took a deep, calming breath before he began the long ascent towards the Palace of the Grand Master from his residence at the Palace of the Rock Goat. Dread clutched at his heart as he climbed, the boots of his radiant Gold Cloth an unnatural counterpoint to the sharp rapid beat in his chest. Even if this wasn’t one of his private training sessions with the Grand Master, just going to this building made him want to flee. Still he passed the Palace of the Jeweled Urn, and he half tripped on a stair as he saw someone emerge from it.

It was common knowledge that Aquarius Camus spent most of his time in Siberia, given his affinity for the cold and low tolerance for anything above eighteen degrees Celsius. As such Shura, not quite wanting to see anyone right now, let Camus get ahead of him on the stairs. The other man was also clad in his Gold Cloth as he started up the stairs. Unless Camus was for some reason visiting, gods forbid, Pisces Aphrodite, then in all likelihood this was a full summons of the Gold Saints, all eight of them. Shura found a small sliver of comfort in that, if nothing else he wouldn’t be alone with the Grand Master, at least not right away.

He followed Camus at a comfortable distance, not so far back as to be late for the meeting, but not so close as to discomfort the Aquarius Saint. The last obstacle between Shura and the Palace of the Grand Master, home of his lapdog, Pisces Aphrodite. As far as he was concerned the other man could drop dead, always playing so high and mighty, as if he didn’t know his own status relative to Shura’s. Not to mention he always seemed to know more than he let on behind that pretty face. At least Aphrodite had the decency to pretend to be human, unlike Cancer Deathmask, the creep.

The rose buds that lined the way up the staircase remained tightly furled, even as a yawn several yards behind him made Shura’s skin crawl. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and confirmed his seventh worst fear. Pisces Aphrodite was now only a few paces behind him, yawning and stretching as though he had rolled out of bed without a care in the world and had decided to grace the meeting with his presence. Then again he supposed even the Grand Master’s lapdog could not afford many luxuries. This however left him with a problem, as walking too fast would bring him into contact with Camus, but walking to slow would put him in contact with Aphrodite.

A small blessing then that this arbitrary social convention of a trap ended as they reached the Palace of the Grand Master. Past a quiet, dark hallway off to the right and the hallway to the Grand Master’s office on the left, they arrived at the throne room, joined moments later by the rest of the Gold Saints. Given their limited numbers, Shura stood on one side of the bright red carpet flanked by Aphrodite and Virgo Shaka. At least the Virgo Saint was utterly apathetic to Shura’s existence.

Once all eight Gold Saints had entered, and assumed their positions in two neat rows, an uneasy silence fell over them. As far as Shura knew, the group had never been gathered in their entirety before, which he could only assume meant something bad loomed on the horizon. After all, what sort of threat could warrant the strength of eight Gold Saints?

Or, Shura suppressed any reaction, had something else equal to Aiolos’s death reared its head.

His train of thought cut short as the Grand Master entered. Despite the eerie shadow cast by the helmet, he could see the unnaturally bright eyes beneath them. He wasn’t sure if anyone else could, then again if they did then they probably wouldn’t care. The dark, flowing robes trailed over the carpet as the Grand Master strode to the throne, and behind him came a few servants carrying a computer and projector set up. The Gold Saints bowed as the Grand Master passed, and only righted themselves once he sat. The projector and screen were quickly set up and the Grand Master produced a small remote from the sleeve of his robe. The servants departed, and with a few clicks, the projector whirred to life to display a recording of an arena of some sort.

At the heart of the arena stood a ring, and within that ring stood-

“Hyôga?” Camus’s voice cut through the silence.

The camera panned around the arena to reveal nine Bronze Pandora Boxes on a platform, and above them a golden one with a centaur archer. An uneasy murmur ran through the group. Across from Shura, Milo looked uneasy. Aiolia, however appeared unresponsive and mute. Then again, this rattled Shura too, so he couldn’t blame him for not wanting to have an outburst in front of the Grand Master. His fingers twitched, the last time he had seen Sagittarius, it had been the night he murdered Aiolos.

“As some of you know, this Galaxy Tournament took place several weeks ago, a despicable event using the symbol of a Gold Saint as little more than a trophy? Must the Saints, especially Sagittarius, suffer humiliation after humiliation?” The Grand Master spoke, voice soft with concern. “I had sent several Silver Saints to deal with the matter discreetly, after the two Bronzes I asked to deal with the matter turned traitor. However after several betrayals, the Silver Saints were also killed. Not only has the host of this tournament, one Saori Kido-” a click of the remote changed the image to that of a young girl, no more than fifteen years old at best, “declared herself as a pretender to our Lady Athena’s throne, but also has begun to amass a force to take on Sanctuary. She has even convinced Aries Mû, and Libra Rôshi to join her cause. Therefore we must consider her and her army a legitimate threat. I believe they intend to march on Sanctuary to claim the throne by force.” He paused and let the implication of his words sink in.

Shura’s jaw clenched, the truth of the matter growing evident. This was Athena, the true Athena marching to war to reclaim Sanctuary. Oh gods, what to do? No… his course was clear, he had dug his grave thirteen years ago, and now he would lie in it. Besides, what could an army of Bronzes do, even with the backing of two Gold Saints? He knew full well the capabilities of a Bronze Saint, for better and worse. Another person, a young, innocent Equuleus Saint he’d once known, had said that Equuleus was cursed, that any who bore that Bronze Cloth would meet a terrible fate. The man couldn’t rightly say whether that curse was wrong in the end. Thirteen years had robbed him of his friends, his idol, and what little honor he had. The only thing left to lose now was his life. But he could hardly place the blame on the curse of Equuleus could he? Given that he had made his choices, as awful as they were.

“I expect you all to fulfill your duty as Gold Saints. Now go, rest and prepare for battle as you will. I have faith in you. Dismissed my Gold Saints.” He waved to the group.

Shura bowed and turned to leave, half expecting to be asked to stay behind to receive some ‘further instruction’. The Grand Master loomed before Aphrodite, who looked distinctly uncomfortable as the others departed. He whispered something before he gave the Pisces Saint leave to go. Aphrodite strode away, quicker than would be considered polite. The Grand Master’s attention turned to Shura and he beckoned him close before he could properly leave as well. Reluctantly Shura approached and knelt down.

“My dear, precious sword, I want you to deliver the head of that imposter to me when she arrives, along with her traitorous followers.” He trailed a hand down his cheek, even as the Capricorn Saint felt his blood run cold, heart pounding in his ears. “I’ve trained you so well. You have your faults and at times you’ve been a disappointment.” The hand on his cheek slid to his hair and tugged it, hard enough that his head snapped back to look at the bloody eyes watching him. “But you’ll do this, I know you will. How is your throat doing by the way?”

He swallowed painfully, the bruising on his throat had gone down but it still hurt nonetheless. The sheer terror of two nights ago haunted him and he could see the smirk play on the Grand Master’s lips. “I will do as you ask of me, my Lord.”

“That is my good, my bright blade. Now go.”

The hand in his hair lifted and he bowed once he stood up. To his dismay as he closed the double doors behind him, he saw Aphrodite by a column, idling with a rose before he fell in beside Shura as they left. A brief moment of sun blindness faded as his eyes adjusted and he caught sight of something on the other man’s neck, just above the coif of the Pisces Cloth. It appeared to be a hickey, stark purple and black against pale skin, like one of Aphrodite’s beloved roses.

“Are you alright, Shura? You’re staring.” The concern in Aphrodite’s voice might easily have passed for sincere, if the Capricorn Saint didn’t know better.

“The sun on your Cloth blinded me briefly.” He replied tersely.

Aphrodite raised one carefully sculpted and skeptical eyebrow. “Right.”

That ended the conversation, and Shura breathed a sigh of relief as Aphrodite disappeared towards his own palace. He continued on back down the hill, not wanting to think about implications or details left out of the meeting, like just how subdued Aiolia seemed. Something about it bothered him, but he pushed it aside. He had already caused the Leo Saint enough grief and pain for one lifetime.

Upon passing the Palace of the Jeweled Urn once more, he overheard Camus and Scorpio Milo in the foyer near the door.

“Camus, why the fuck are you out here in this day and age with a- a- a _sin mullet?!_ ” Milo’s voice cracked spectacularly.

“There was an accident.” Camus replied, bewildered by the question.

Even this far away, Shura could hear the sharp, deep inhale that said Milo was at the end of his rope already. Curiosity caught the better of the Capricorn Saint as he lingered to continue listening.

“Camus.” Milo continued, trying to keep his cool. “When there’s an accident, you don’t just cut part of your hair off, you cut all of it to make it even.”

“But the Babas said I look good.”

“That’s because they’re your grandmother and her friends. They raised you. They would tell you that you looked good bald and wearing a potato sack. They love you enough not to tell you that this looks like a sin. I love you, probably too much for my own good, so I’m going to help you. Now we’re going inside and finding a pair of scissors.”

With that the Scorpio Saint bustled him inside, and Shura continued on his way back to the Palace of the Rock Goat. He had accepted a long time ago that because of his actions he could never really be with anyone, as a friend or lover. No one deserved that stigma.

Once home, Shura looked at the TV, still stubbornly showing the friendly football game that he’d abandoned for the meeting. Not that he had any real investment in the upcoming World Cup tournament after Spain’s thorough trouncing last time. He sighed as he removed the Capricorn Cloth with a thought and slumped onto the couch to finish watching the match for lack of anything better to do. In all likelihood he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight anyway, so he could go for patrol then. After all, it’s not like they would actually storm the front gates of Sanctuary in broad daylight. Where would the strategy in that be?

The rest of the day dragged on after the match ended with the announcers excitedly chattering about team prospects and bracket predictions. Shura opted to skip lunch, the meeting had shot his apatite. Exhausted and vaguely nauseated, he changed into his pajamas and fell into bed. Not that his dreams were a much better place than his life, but if nothing else it meant he could avoid living his life for just a little while longer.

_He knelt, bloodied and exhausted on the misty battlefield. The once dry field had become a marsh awash with rain and blood. Corpses of people and horses littered the area. Sword firmly in hand once more, he forced himself to his feet as he leveled his blade. His opponent’s bright blue eyes flashed with icy amusement. Their own sword lifted to meet his in one last, desperate clash-_

A sharp pain split his forehead as he crumpled onto the floor. “Ai, shit…” he swore in Spanish as he flopped onto the floor. At this angle he could see the digital clock on his dresser. The green numbers displayed two thirty in the morning. Ugh. Patrol time. Sure. Why not.

Suited up in the Capricorn Cloth once more, the next few hours passed in an uneventful slog around Sanctuary’s grounds. No sign of anyone or anything threatening Sanctuary in the slightest. Still, if nothing else he could say he had at least fulfilled his responsibilities, if the Grand Master asked. As dawn began to creep over the horizon, Shura made his way back up the hill, his need for food and maybe some more rest caught the better of him.

A few lights were on among the Twelve Palaces, a set of eerie blue flickers from the Palace of the Giant Crab illuminated the interior. Faces lined the walls along the inside of the foyer, all twisted into shapes of fear and pain. Gods he hated Deathmask. Half running past the building, he made his way past the Palace of the Lion, dark and quiet, and on to the Palace of the Maiden. Much to his surprise, Shaka was actually out in the foyer, clad in a pair of leggings and doing what Shura could only guess was some sort of yoga practice. At least that was given the fact the Virgo Saint seemed to be seated on the ground with one leg in front, while the other was caught in the crook of his elbow with both hands forming a halo behind his head. Unwilling to disturb the fearsome Saint, he finished the rest of his journey in peace, mostly.

Given how quiet the Hill stood right now, he stopped at the Palace of the Archer, home to the late Sagittarius Aiolos. Shura reached out and hesitantly touched one of the pillars along the perimeter of the building. “No matter how many times I say it, I don’t know if it will ever be enough. I’m sorry, gods I’m sorry. You would be here if not for me, and then we wouldn’t be on the verge of war, right? Gods, I’m sorry, Aiolos.” Even now, tears crept into the corners of his eyes and he hastened home, lest anyone catch him out here.

Once inside, he removed the Capricorn Cloth once more. Not quite up to the full effort of cooking, he pulled out a plate and some of his leftovers from dinner the other night to park in the microwave. A quick glance at the clock said it was not quite six in the morning. His eyes fell to the cell phone on the countertop. He really needed to get out of his head and talk to someone for a bit. As he pulled the plate of paella from the microwave, Shura pulled up the recent call menu to the one person he actually called anymore.

A few moments of ringing passed, getting cell reception in Sanctuary was a miracle on the best of days, as even with its relatively modern updates, the ancient divine magic that guarded the realm had to be coaxed into working with modern technology.

“Hello?” An older man’s voice came across the phone in Basque.

“Grandpa.” For the first time in the better part of three days, the tension drained from Shura’s shoulders. “I haven’t called at a bad time have I?”

He could hear the smile in his voice. “No, no, I’m just finishing my second cup of coffee before I head out for the morning. Never a day off, even with the wet summer we’ve had. Speaking of, do you think you’ll be able to get home for it this year?”

“We’ll have to see, things have been, er, rather busy around here.” The less he said about the actual goings on of Sanctuary, the safer his family would be. At the very least they had so far escaped being used as leverage by the Grand Master against him. “You know how it is.”

“You sound tired. They aren’t overworking you are they?”

“No, no, I was just up most of the night on patrol and I didn’t get a lot of sleep before it.”

Concern colored his grandpa’s tone. “Alright. Make sure you eat something and take a nice hot bath before you go to bed. Saving the world is a difficult job, and you have to remember to be kind with yourself.”

Shura nodded, willing to try that much at least for his grandpa. “I will.”

The conversation wandered off after that to the farm, the family, and the upcoming World Cup. By the time it ended, he did actually feel a bit better. Once his dishes were clean, he made his way to the bathroom to indulge in that hot bath idea before trying to get some more sleep. The drum of water against the tub distracted him enough that he got out of his own head. Quietly, once the bath was full, he stripped and slid into the warm, soothing water. Draping a warm, damp washcloth over his eyes, Shura dozed.

“ _ATTENTION: THE IMPOSTER AND HER ARMY HAVE ARRIVED. ALL GOLD SAINTS PREPARE FOR BATTLE!_ ”

Startled, he vaulted to his feet with a great slosh of water onto the floor. Barely taking any time to towel off, he sprinted out of his bedroom, briefly colliding with the desk near the door, inherited from his great great grand uncle and previous Capricorn Saint. He slid along the slick tiled floors, even as he called his Cloth to him once more, bursting through the doors. The noonday sun shone bright overhead as he vaulted onto the roof to keep watch out over the Hill.


	3. Another Stranger Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads ups for suicidal ideation and canonical character death. Also naked people.

Time, a curious thing indeed, a strange, ephemeral creature. Given that days could feel a year long, lost in an endless stupor, but mere seconds could run far faster than the blink of an eye. The invasion of Sanctuary came to his doorstep like a wildfire, chewing up time and fellow Gold Saint alike. Deathmask was the first to fall, with Shaka following soon after. All too soon it seemed this so called army had arrived at the Palace of the Rock Goat.

As Shura moved to intercept them, the ground split with every strike until he caught a clear sight of them. This was no well trained army, these were a small group of children, barely older than he had been upon becoming a Gold Saint. His boast of being Sagittarius Aiolos’s murderer left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it did nothing to deter them. Shouldn’t they be scared? He was an abhorrent, awful person, and yet one lingered behind to give the others a chance to press forward.

His blade carved through the Draco Saint’s shield, even reducing the Cloth to a pile of orichalcum dust. Still, the fight dragged on, the boy unwilling to yield. The sun began to dip below the horizon, as the first stars of evening peeked out into the night. And like that Shura found himself caught and rocketing towards the heavens. The boy, no this Saint intended to give his life for his ideals, a truly honorable and worthy person.

Not like him.

He could escape, could wrench himself free, but what would be the point? He wouldn’t be able to go home and face his family after this, having turned his blade against Athena and her protectors a second time. Draco Shiryû had a long and prosperous future ahead of him, a Saint who could accomplish great things in the name of their Lady. And if nothing else, death would be a release and relief. If nothing else maybe he could repent in death by fighting the Specters. Or apologize to Aiolos. Anything would be better than this.

Capricorn.

The Cloth made a soft, worried noise in the back of his mind.

Protect Draco Shiryû, please. I am sorry I was unworthy of you.

The Cloth protested, even as he forced it to assemble around Shiryû’s unconscious body. He gave one final kick to give enough acceleration for gravity to do the rest.

Adrift in the cold void of space, Shura closed his eyes as he ceased burning his Cosmo. For a brief moment his skin chilled, even as he could feel a scorching pain through his blood. Breathing became impossible even as his lungs struggled in vain to do so. But this, this was only a brief, passing thing. Like all things within the bounds of time, nothing lasted forever and every pain would end.

~

_Unless the Fates have other plans._

~

“Arthur! Arthur!” A sharp, gruff voice caught Shura’s attention.

An idea he found logically impossible. He had died. Had felt his body literally cease to function properly. So why was someone yelling at him? And calling him Arthur? Yes his third name was Arturo, so what? He was named for three different members of his family. Never mind the ‘how’ of someone yelling at him post mortem. Unless the Underworld was a far crasser and rowdier place than he had been led to believe.

A prod to his ribs made him jolt in pain. “Get up, Arthur, we haven’t got all day!”

“My name is Shura you insufferable ass.” He muttered, sitting up before he opened his eyes.

An elderly man with a long grey beard and robes stood before him, looking at him from under the brim of his hat and unkempt eyebrows. “Is that what you call yourself or what others call you?” A mercurial smile crossed his lips, or what were probably his lips given the sheer expanse of beard.

“You tell me, Gandalf, considering you seem fixated on calling me Arthur.” He snapped back. He just wanted to be at peace, something he clearly wouldn’t be able to get with this guy around.

The old man laughed. “You think you’re so funny. Gandalf as an archetype finds his roots in me you know. And don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me so soon, Arthur?”

Shura staggered to his feet, rubbing his side. “Considering I don’t know many ZZ Top fans who go to Renaissance Fairs on the weekend. So, Obi-Wan, no, I have no idea who you are.”

“Then let me ask you something else, where are we?” The man gestured around them.

Tearing his gaze away, he drew in a soft gasp. The land was green with a faint golden mist in the air. Flowers dotted the landscape between thick, tall trees. Small birds and insects flitted hither and thither between the buds. To his left a small silvery stream ran, while on his right stood a tall red gate with a wall of vines and mist forming a perimeter. “I know this can’t be Elysium, I’m…” he hung his head before confusion set back in. “I am dead right?” A quick glance down revealed faint discolorations in his skin where he had been injured, and by extension the fact he was naked.

“Without a doubt, stick a nail in the coffin, dead and gone. However, Arthur, there’s just one problem, you died too soon.” The man’s voice drew Shura’s attention back to him.

He squinted and tilted his head. “How does someone ‘die too soon’?” The sheer weight of incredulity made it impossible for him to believe this was seriously happening. Then again, many different and conflicting accounts existed of what people experienced on the verge of death. But then if this was what was waiting for them, no wonder death was a taboo topic.

“Simple, I sent you back to do a job but you’re back without having even started it.” His head shook, beard wagging rhythmically as he did so. “I hadn’t planned on that but if in doubt, improvise!” The man snapped his fingers before he touched Shura’s forehead briefly. “How’s that for you?”

The Saint blinked at him, exhausted and annoyed. “I feel nothing. Now if you will kindly excuse me, I’ve had enough of your gibbering madness, I died and I would like to stay that way.” He flopped onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes. A shadow clouded over him as his primary irritant moved to obscure the unknown light source. He shifted his arm to glare up at him.

The man’s expression softened, and Shura swore he saw a glint of sorrow in those old, grey eyes. “Are you really so tired of life?”

“Yes.” Shura snapped. As if there was any question. Even death would be as great a hardship as his life had been.

The old man’s head bowed as though the weight of the world had landed on his shoulders. “I see. Then, perhaps a bargain? I send you back for one simple task, and then you can move on, whether to Avalon or the Underworld, no strings attached.”

Suspicion rose in his chest, and he scowled at the man. “I want to know what it is you’d have me do before I agree to it.” He stood once more to devote his attention to whatever asinine deal was coughed up.

“Find someone willing to take your place to find the Holy Grail, and save the Lady of Spring before the world ends and all life on Earth with it.” His tone made it sound remarkably blasé, like going to the grocery store would prove more arduous.

“That’s not simple at all! No one in their right mind should be force to bear that kind of responsibility! That task before them would prove impossible!”

The man shrugged. “You seem adamant about moving on and refusing it, but this task must be done. If you won’t then I need someone else who will. If you won’t even do that for me then our business here is done. Goodbye, Arthur.”

Shura scrubbed his hands through his hair, tugging the thick, black curls to help soothe himself. “Fine, you conniving old man. I’ll do it, but coercion is a dirty, underhanded pile of hot shit and if you ever try and pull that on me again I’ll tear out your heart and stomp on it.”

The man nodded quite calmly as he reached out for him again. This time when he touched, a thick strand of black, viscous goo caught around his fingers. Once the wad, all told about the size of a decent beach ball, lay on the ground between them, Shura staggered while the man pointed his finger and blasted it with a series of blue and gold lightning bolts.

“Ha! Got it! Ares never was good at hiding when provoked!” The old man boasted. “How do you feel now, Arthur?”

“My name is Shura.” He mumbled in protest, dizzy with nausea and head throbbing. “What was that?”

“The influence of Ares, God of Bloodshed and Violence. No wonder I was having such a hard time reaching you, but it’s gone now.” He beamed, bright as the noonday sun. “If nothing else, now do you recognize me?”

Swallowing as he righted himself, the Saint squinted at the man once more. Behind him he could see a figure of a woman clad in armor with a shield and staff, her features obscured by the shadow of her helmet, save the gleam of silver-grey eyes. He dropped to his knees, head bowed against the soft grass.

“M-My Lady I’m sorry- I-”

A gentle, gnarled hand pressed to his shoulder before encouraging him to sit up. “Come now, my faithful Capricorn, you still have a task ahead of you if you are willing once more.” The blend of voices, both that of the old man and a young woman said.

Here, before his Goddess, with a weight lifted from his shoulders, for the first time he felt hope, real, honest hope. He had done atrocious things, but now, maybe, a chance to make amends before he passed on lay before him. “I’ll do it. I’ll find the Grail and the Lady of Spring.” After all, how would he face Aiolos if he didn’t at least try to repent for everything he had done?

“I’m glad.” They replied, cupping his cheek. “If when all is said and done, you still feel you long for death, we shall see it done, that you may be at peace. Now, rise, for time is short and we have much to do.” As they both stood the aura of Athena faded for the most part, though an echo of her power lingered in the misty golden air.

Shura straightened up, breathing deeply. “So where is the Grail?”

“That’s getting a bit ahead of ourselves, isn’t it Arthur?” The man gave another of those mercurial smiles. “You have to assemble your round table first. After all, a king with no followers is just a person. Your first task, more a test of several sorts is to reunite with Guinevere. If you can manage that, then you’ll have everything and everyone you need to find the Grail.”

“Sounds too straightforward. There’s a catch.” He replied, not wholly certain he knew why there would be a catch, just that it seemed natural for there to be one.

That mercurial smile broadened. “As astute as ever I see. Poor Guinevere’s gone and gotten a demon in her soul, so you’ll need to remove it if you want her back. Demons are tricky and an arduous task even for those trained to fight them, so you’ll have some help from your greatest friend and rival. And both he and Guinevere should be arriving in, three, two, one.”

The gates of Avalon swung briefly open as a pair of golden owls flew in. Their cargo was unceremoniously deposited on the ground near Shura. He looked over and balked. “Deathmask and Aphrodite?! You can’t be serious! I’ll play along with the ‘Arthur finds the Grail’ thing, but these two can’t be my help!”

“Only one of them is your help, I think Lancelot will be a valuable ally for you this time around. And together you can put Guinevere back in order. The three of you will be nigh on unstoppable.” The man gestured to the two.

Aphrodite was artistically crumpled on the ground, small flowers blooming around him in an outline of pink. Deathmask was not so fortunate, between his position face down on the ground and also kneeling, while the grass died around him. “Right… you’re sure about this? Aphrodite is as much a traitor if not worse than I am. He served the false Grand Master willingly. And Deathmask… well Deathmask is the human equivalent of a dumpster fire at a tire factory.”

“Absolutely. We can keep Guinevere here, her soul will essentially be asleep, which will hold the demon at bay. Now, wake up Lancelot so we can begin.”

Shura knelt down between them, reluctantly. Like this he sort of recognized Deathmask’s face in a way he hadn’t before. Where had he seen him… his pale white skin was flushed bright red as if he had been sunburned, with his white hair mussed from the landing. He glanced back at the man. “Why can’t we just pop the demon out right now?”

“Because the demon has consumed your memories of the host. In order to rip it out, part of the ritual involves remembering who they are. Not to mention if we let it out here, it could open the gates from the inside and let its master into Avalon. Besides, I can’t go around doing everything for you, magic is a valuable resource. Takes the fun out of life. Now, Lancelot?”

Shura sighed, and looked between them. “Aphrodite? Deathmask?” No response from either of them. Then again, the man kept calling him Arthur, and he had awoken when called such. The question was, who was Lancelot and who had the demon. On the one hand Deathmask seemed the obvious candidate for such a thing, but Aphrodite’s pretty face could easily conceal a greater evil. Only one way to find out. “Lancelot? Wake up.”

Aphrodite pouted and rolled over. “No. Go away.”

The upside, he supposed, was that this meant that Deathmask was clearly the possession victim. The downside meant he would likely be getting to know Aphrodite more closely than he ever wanted to. He reached over and touched the Pisces Saint’s shoulder. “Lancelot. Wake up already.”

“Why the fuck are you calling me Lancelot? Are you drunk?”

“What? No!” Shura protested abruptly as he scowled at Aphrodite. “Now come on, Lancelot, get up.”

Aphrodite sat up with a stretch. The long golden waves of hair fell over his back and the Capricorn Saint came to the awkward realization that his colleague was upsettingly beautiful. He caught a flash of red and black against faintly freckled ribs, and a closer inspection revealed a tattoo of a rose along his right ribs. In addition, he spotted two golden hoops through Aphrodite’s nipples.

“See something you like?” The Pisces Saint’s light, lilting voice snapped his concentration like a twig.

Shura spluttered for a moment. His rich brown cheeks darkened with a blush as his gaze averted to the grass. “You’re awake! Finally!”

That small giggle made a strange knot twist in his stomach as he stood up. He hesitated before offering his hand to Aphrodite to help him stand up. It startled him how soft his hand was, almost as much as the fact that the other man actually accepted his help. As he watched him stand, he saw the faint outline of the hickey on his neck, though unlike the faint marks that indicated his own injuries, he couldn’t see anything on the other man.

The old man clapped his hands. “Excellent! I can see you two are going to get along just splendidly!”

“Shura, who’s the old man?”

He considered for a moment. “He’s an aspect or avatar of the Lady Athena. And well, if I’m right… I think that’s Merlin.”

“What like the wizard? Like the kooky old man in The Black Cauldron?” Aphrodite cocked his head, accompanied by a skeptical eyebrow raise.

“Considering that Merlin is based on the mythic Merlin, yes.” Shura hissed.

That made the other Saint roll his eyes. “Okay, well I’ve clearly gotten a concussion and am hallucinating.”

A slimy bubbling sensation crept along Shura’s fingertips, he glanced down at where he was still holding Aphrodite’s hand. It was like the other man were coated in a bloody oil on a Cosmic level. He almost gagged as he caught a clear view of it. Trying to keep his stomach in check, his free hand reached up to Aphrodite’s shoulder, and with a flare of his own Cosmo, he seized the oil slick and wrenched it from the Pisces Saint.

Aphrodite slumped, and Shura hastily wrapped an arm around him to hold him upright. He chucked the slime into the air and Merlin blasted it with another bolt of blue and gold lightning. Satisfied that the other man was safe, Shura belatedly realized that the Pisces Saint had pillowed against his chest. Ignoring the nice, warm weight the other man provided, he jostled him gently.

“Aphrodite?” He asked.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a very lovely voice? The way you roll your ‘r’ is hypnotic.” He said, words muffled against Shura’s chest. “Mmm, tits.” He nuzzled in against the soft dark curls of hair with a small smile.

Shura, too embarrassed to wince, sighed. The Grand Master hated his accent, the fact that even after living in Greece for so long he kept a Spanish accent with him. It was one of the small acts of defiance he allowed himself. “Come on, Aphrodite, quit goofing around.”

The Pisces Saint looked up at him with wide blue eyes, mouth tilted in a soft pout. Had he ever seen Aphrodite without makeup? He couldn’t rightly say for certain. Either way, there was a gentle, raw vulnerability in the man’s face. Shura relented with a soft sigh.

“Oh fine, stay there if you want.” He cradled Aphrodite’s head back to his chest. If he was supposed to work with him, might as well get used to how tactile this trip would be.

Merlin smiled, amused at the situation. “Good, good. Glad to see you two are making this work. Now that you’re both here, we can begin.” He turned on his heel and started to walk.

It took a few nudges to encourage Aphrodite to move, but the two followed after, the Pisces Saint clasped Shura’s hand, despite the Capricorn Saint rolling his eyes. When was the last time he had been touched with any sort of kindness? Probably the last time he had gone home to see his family. Oh gods, his family. Had they been told of his death? What would his grandfather say?

A reassuring squeeze came from Aphrodite’s hand. He blinked and glanced over at him, but the other man’s face proved difficult to read. However his pondering would have to wait as Merlin led them into a glen surrounded by low hanging willow trees. Shura passed through the dangling branches easily enough but his arm jerked as Aphrodite came to a halt. The trees grasped the Pisces Saint gently, and he giggled.

“Hello sweethearts, yes, it’s lovely to meet you too. No I’m afraid I can’t stay. Yes you’re all very lovely.” He cooed at the trees.

Merlin glanced back and waved a hand. “Lancelot, the trees will still be there, now come along trees, let him go.”

If trees could complain, they would sound like cats who had not been fed in several hours. It worked though, and Aphrodite slipped forward to stand beside Shura and Merlin. Through the glen ran another silvery stream, crystal clear with small pearls gleaming in the bed.

“Merlin.” Shura said, angling his head to look at him. “You never said how we’re supposed to go about anything. Where are we even going to start with Deathmask’s possession? Or the search for the Holy Grail?”

“An excellent question! Your quest for both will begin with same steps, finding the Vessel of the Queen of Spring.” Merlin explained.

“The Vessel of Queen of Spring? Did you lose it or something?” Aphrodite’s unimpressed look spoke volumes.

Wiggling his hand a little Merlin nodded. “Somewhat, though on a technical level, you’re the one who lost them, Lancelot. I assigned a couple of Saints to the protection of the Vessel, but well, thanks to Ares interference as well as a pair of very untimely deaths, I have no idea where the Vessel is.”

“Merlin,” Shura held up his free hand. “Is the Vessel an object or a person? People? What is it we’re looking for?”

“Person. During the Sixteenth Century Holy War I recovered my sister’s soul from the depths of Tartarus despite being pursued by the Twin Gods. Before that during the Holy War where you and your court allied with us, we attempted to take the Holy Grail back from Hypnos and Thanatos, as the Grail is the key to saving my sister and restoring order. However, I soon learned that without the Grail, my sister could not be revived by the Waters of Avalon alone once I retrieved her. As such I needed a suitable vessel, though the Twin Gods are crafty bastards, every time she would have a potential vessel, they would use them as one for Hades instead. Fortunately thanks to Uther and his husband’s aid, we were able to kill the Dream Gods and replace them, thus allowing one of my other servants to enter the Dreaming to secure an alternative host. I had hoped you would protect that host until the time came but here we are.” Merlin said as though this somehow clarified everything.

“Wait, back up! We’re talking about the Holy Grail? Then what about the whole Christian interpretation of the thing? Also aren’t the Dream Gods aligned with the Underworld? I just- ugh- you’re really bad at explaining.” Aphrodite huffed. “And stop accusing me of losing someone I didn’t know existed until five minutes ago.”

Merlin held up a finger as he answered the string of questions. “Yes. Different cup, same name, depends on your religion. They were, but as Uther is now one of the Dream Gods, they are on our side. And you always say that Lancelot. As to the loss of the Vessel, it wasn’t your fault, the position was yours to inherit but Ares prevented you from fulfilling it.”

Flipping his hair and frowning, Aphrodite turned once more to Shura. “You’re going along with this?”

He nodded solemnly. “I am. I’ve done many a terrible thing, but if I do this, maybe I can atone for my sins. And then when this is over, maybe I can be worthy of the title Capricorn.”

Eyes closed, the Pisces Saint thought briefly. “Well, I suppose I have to come with you then. You’re not the only one who needs to make up for what they’ve done. So what now?” His answer was quieter and more introspective than Shura had ever given him credit for.

“Now comes the tricky part. Once you drink of the water, you won’t be dead but you won’t precisely be alive. Call it a certain sort of limbo. The people with whom you share a strong bond will be able to see you, as well as those tied to the Grail. Those whom you need to interact with to function in society will only just be able to do so. Returning to Sanctuary will cause more trouble than either of you are likely prepared for as of right now, but I won’t stop you if you wish to go back. When you’re ready, I’ll send you once more to the beginning, and I trust you can make your way from there.” Merlin knelt and dipped his fingers into the water. It shone with a soft golden light. “Ready when you are.”

Aphrodite looked up at Shura. He wasn’t wholly certain how they hoped to accomplish any of this. But well, he may as well try. Perhaps even in the attempt he could find his forgiveness before he passed on. He nodded and the other man returned the gesture. They both knelt and scooped up a handful of water.

The water tasted cool and crisp like dawn after a good run, at least according to Shura.

At least until he felt himself fall before he blacked out.


	4. Give Us Guidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Shura! Things are gonna get better for you I promise.
> 
> Things in this chapter: mild references to attempted suicide, physical and emotional abuse, and just dealing with the aftermath of trauma all around.

Something wet and wiggling closed around Shura’s ear and hair, and it smelled like old, soggy alfalfa. “Mmm…” he grumbled and ineffectually pushed against the horse trying to nibble on him.

“Hey, move, move girl. There we are.” An old, familiar voice caught his attention as he struggled to sit up. “Zuzen? What are you doing here? Are you alright? Do you know this other person?” He asked in rapid fire Basque.

“Grandpa?” Shura blinked up at him, the afternoon sun downright blinding.

The older man knelt down and pulled him into a hug. “It’s good to see you again. But what is going on Zuzen?” Shura’s shoulders shook, and he buried his face in his grandfather’s shoulder and sobbed. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you.” He soothed gently. They stayed like that for a few minutes, as all the grief and sorrow poured out of him. All the while those safe, strong arms he had run to ever since he had been a small child held him tight.

His steed wandered over nearby to Aphrodite. The horse took a mouthful of hair and tugged. “What the flying fuck?! Shura why is a horse trying to eat me?!”

Shura looked over at him, puffy eyed and sniffling. “Not in front of my grandfather, Aphrodite.” He shouted, switching back to Greek.

“Fine. But did you miss the part with a horse literally trying to eat me?!” The Pisces Saint pulled away from the horse and scrambled his way over to his compatriot.

In the most deadpan tone he could muster, he replied. “Maybe you smell like food. It was nice knowing you.”

“Ooh!” Aphrodite pouted and flipped his hair.

“Are you going to introduce me?” His grandfather whispered.

Blinking, Shura nodded. “Oh, right. Grandpa this is the Pisces Saint, Aphrodite uh…” it occurred to him he didn’t actually know Aphrodite’s last name, or anything about his personal life, really.

“Aphrodite Lécuyer.” Said man supplied.

The old man smiled as he also switched over into Greek. “Kemen Cabrera. I’m Zuzen’s grandfather. It’s always an honor to play host to another Gold Saint.”

Head tipped in utter confusion, Aphrodite stared at him. “Zuzen? Who’s Zuzen?”

“I am.” Shura replied. “Shura is a nickname my friends gave me when I first came to Sanctuary.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “My actual name is Zuzen.”

“Ah! I see! Um, which would you prefer me to use?” He asked.

It took him a brief pause to decide. “Shura. Hearing you call me Zuzen would just feel weird somehow.”

Kemen stood up, dusting off his jeans. “You two are lucky I was out here. Let’s get you inside and get you some clothes.”

Shura and Aphrodite also stood, the latter placing the Capricorn Saint between himself and the horse. Kemen gently took the reins and led the way through the neatly ordered rows of trees. Shura took Aphrodite’s hand once more as the other man kept drifting towards the trees every few steps. As they passed the trees they came across an old style farmhouse and barn. Without even thinking, Shura made his way inside as Kemen made a detour to put the horse away. He guided Aphrodite through the living room, up the stairs and into his room. Quietly he took a set of comfortable clothes and started to get dressed. Nothing too fancy, just a clean pair of underwear, some comfy jeans, and a plaid button down. He pulled out a second set and handed it over to Aphrodite.

“Thank you.” He replied.

“You’re welcome.” Shura hesitated as he watched Aphrodite get dressed for a moment. Only after that though he turned his back, embarrassed by the fact he was staring. “I realize this probably isn’t your style but it’s all we have around here.”

Aphrodite nodded as he pulled on the pants. “It’ll be fine Shura, I promise.” He straightened up, and pulled on the shirt. “Um, your grandfather seems very nice.”

“He is. He raised me.” He said, eyes falling on the pictures along the walls and bookshelves.

The Pisces Saint stepped next to Shura as he rolled the sleeves of the shirt up to his elbows. It was strange not to see him in some sort of soft, frilly outfit. He’d seen Aphrodite coming and going enough times in sundresses and blouses and the like for this to prove a jarring sight, though some part of the Capricorn Saint took a gentle pleasure in it.

At least until the other man’s voice recaptured his attention. “He reminds me of my father. My father was an incredibly kind person…”

“Did he…”

“Yes. Just before I came to Sanctuary, I was nine.”

Hesitantly he wrapped an arm around him. Aphrodite leaned against him. “I see.”

“He was my predecessor as Pisces as well, taught me everything I know from fighting to plants. I…” He trailed off before they heard one of the downstairs doors open to herald Kemen’s return.

They headed back down to find the older man throwing together some lunch. “You can explain what’s going on after we eat, alright Zuzen, Aphrodite?” He glanced back over his shoulder at them.

Shura smiled, a faint, sweet gesture. “Right. Do you need any help?”

“I’d welcome it. Especially since I know how much two Gold Saints can eat.” He laughed, bright and affectionate.

Given that Cosmo relied on one’s own natural energy to make it work, supplementing it with an appropriate caloric intake proved vital to a Saint’s wellbeing and ability to fight. It took little effort for Shura to get into the swing of being back in the kitchen with Kemen, as though he had never left home in the first place. The two worked in harmony together, even as Aphrodite hovered, uncertain whether to jump in and help.

Kemen glanced back over his shoulder. “Do you have any allergies, Aphrodite?”

“None that I know of. Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He asked.

“We’re fine.” He reassured and motioned to the stools around the island. “Please have a seat, you’re our guest after all. Besides it’s not everyday Zuzen brings home one of his friends from Sanctuary.”

“I- we- we’re not-” Shura stammered, even as he fumbled with a handful of spice jars.

Aphrodite cocked his head. “We’ve never been particularly close, but I’d like to get to know you.”

He spun around to stare at him wide eyed. “You would?! Since when?!”

“Since, well, we’re probably going to be at this for a while, and, look, I don’t exactly have a lot of friends. Not to mention I know my own reputation. If I’m going to start making amends and being a better person I’d have to start somewhere, so why not start with the handsome man who’s making me lunch?” He said, twirling a long, golden lock around one finger.

Shura gaped awkwardly at the other man, even as Kemen relieved him of the spices. Thoughtful introspection? Self awareness? Thinking he was handsome?! “Okay who are you and what have you done with Aphrodite?!”

“I’m still me, ass.” He rolled his eyes. “I just feel, mmm, better is the only way to describe it, but lacking as a description, does that make sense?”

Shura’s shoulders slumped as he gazed at his hands. “It does. I know it doesn’t make sense, but it really does.”

Kemen turned away from the stove and cleared his throat delicately. “Not for nothing, boys, but this is getting a little heavy to discuss over food. We can pick this up later, after lunch. Yes?”

“Bai, Aita.” The Capricorn Saint relented.

Kemen smiled and clapped his grandson on the shoulder. “Aphrodite, you wouldn’t happen to know Spanish or Basque would you? My Greek is a bit rusty, I’m afraid.”

“My Spanish is exceptionally limited and I don’t know Basque, I’m sorry. Do you know French?” He offered.

He reached up to take a lid off of the rack near the stovetop. “I do. I don’t know how much Zuzen remembers though.”

Shura shook his head. “Not enough to keep up with a conversation.”

“That’s alright, Greek it is.” Kemen assured. “Now did anyone want something to drink? Food is going to need to cook for a little bit.”

Perking right up, Shura mustered a small, hopeful look. “Cider?”

“Alright, anything for you Aphrodite?” He glanced over his shoulder as he headed to the fridge.

He thought for a moment before nodding. “Cider sounds delightful, thank you.”

The man withdrew a gallon container of apple cider as Shura fetched three glasses down from a cupboard. Both of them migrated over to the collection of stools. As Aphrodite took up a glass of cider and sipped, his eyes lit up and the Capricorn Saint swore he saw his compatriot literally sparkling.

Kemen chuckled. “I take it you like it?”

“Like it? I love it! Where did you get the apples?” Aphrodite leaned forward in the seat, alarmingly close to Shura.

“He grew them.” Shura replied as he gently pushed the other man back into his stool. “If you’re that eager then as long as we’re here we can help out around the farm. You can go spend all the time you want in the orchard that way.”

“Orchard? Orchard? Sign me up!”

Kemen’s smile broadened as he finished taking a sip from his own glass. “It will be nice to have some extra help around. Have you ever worked a farm before?”

“Not that I can ever recall. I grew up in Greenland, but I’m a Gold Saint, and I can communicate with plants. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” He said with the sort of confidence that invited the universe to prove him wrong.

The two other men exchanged a look, and Shura barely concealed a smirk at the idea of Aphrodite’s hubris getting the better of him. But he decided to leave it be for now. “You grew up in Greenland? How the hell did you manage that?”

“My father adopted me when I was three and we moved out there not long after. When I asked him about it he said he was out their looking for something very important, someone who had gone missing...” he stared pensively into his cider. “Oh gods he was out there looking for the Lady of Spring!”

“Wait really?!” Shura’s double take made his neck pop. “Your father was looking for the Lady of Spring? Where? When?”

Aphrodite shied away from him at that. “I- I don’t remember. My brothers might but gods I haven’t seen them in years… and Uncle Dionisio is dead…”

Kemen gently reached over and placed a hand on Shura’s shoulder. The Capricorn Saint settled once more. “Maybe once you boys have explained what’s going on, we can go see if the journals have anything to say. And you can try calling your family later, if you want to.”

“Right.” Aphrodite nodded quietly, oddly subdued.

Shura squirmed internally, apparently even Aphrodite had issues. Compelled to make him feel less awkward, he said, “you’ll like the journals. Some of the poetry seems like it would be your sort of thing.”

“Right.” Aphrodite flashed him a quick, quiet smile.

A loud bark came from outside as Kemen stood and moved to the kitchen door that led onto the patio. As he opened it, a thundering herd of three dogs came charging in, all loud and incredibly excited. The pack of three massive dogs with shaggy white fur beelined for Shura and began barking at him.

Aphrodite stared at the newly arrived beasts. “Dogs? Big dogs?”

Shura looked up at him, both hands occupied with the important task of ear scratching. “This is a farm, Aphrodite. We have goats, and alpacas in addition to the horses and the orchard.”

He nodded mutely as the dogs moved to greet him, absolutely tripping over themselves at the excitement of someone new around. Shura stood and found some plates before he helped Kemen serve up lunch. It only took a few shakes of food bowls from the farmer to entice the dogs away. As they ate Kemen mostly talked about the goings on with the farm and family along with trying to engage Aphrodite in the conversation. To his credit, the Pisces Saint did seem interested in things like the orchard and the small vegetable patch around back.

Once they finished eating, Aphrodite and Shura washed up the dishes and followed Kemen into the living room. The dogs followed after to settle in and demand more affection, also some much needed brushing. Both Kemen and Shura picked up a wire brush and began to work.

“Now, what’s going on, Zuzen?” He looked over at Shura, concern etched into his worn features.

The Capricorn Saint closed his eyes as he drew in a deep breath. Though it didn’t help to steady him, it did allow him to push past the lump in his throat. “Thirteen years ago, I did something horrible, and very wrong.” His shoulders rounded and his head bowed. “I- I killed someone I admired… I killed Sagittarius Aiolos. And I almost killed Lady Athena.” His voice hitched as he continued. “The Grand Master… at the time he said he had been betrayed, and he asked me to me to save Lady Athena and kill the traitor. And I did.” He covered his face with his free hand as the dog licked his elbow gently. “I- I- The Grand Master said I did the right thing but I didn’t and I know it and gods I’m so sorry.”

Kemen reached across the short distance and wrapped his grandson into a tight hug. “I’ve got you Zuzen, where is this Grand Master now?”

“I don’t… I don’t know… yesterday, Athena returned and took back Sanctuary. I- I tried to stop her, but I died… gods… I-” Shura broke down, sobbing as he explained everything that had happened. From his ‘extra training sessions’ with the Grand Master to the fact he had died alone in the cold void of space, and his trip to Avalon and meeting with Merlin. By the time he finished, he was shaking and exhausted. It felt nice not to have to lie anymore to protect his family. No more fear that the Grand Master would threaten them as leverage.

His grandfather waited until Shura had finished. “Oh my boy, listen to me. Thirteen years ago, you were ten. Children in terrible situations like this cannot be held accountable for their actions. You know your little cousin, Antonina? She’s ten now, if an adult in her life asked her to do something awful, would you blame her for going along with it?”

“No. But that’s different.” He protested quietly.

“How is that different?” He asked gently.

“I’m a Saint. I should know better. I already had a Bronze Cloth when I decided to try for Capricorn. I should be better, I should never have listened to the Grand Master. I’m not fit to be a Saint.”

Kemen stroked his hair. “Zuzen, it is never the victim’s fault. You’ve been living in fear and pain for a long time and it is not your fault.” He turned his attention to Aphrodite. “What can you tell me about this Grand Master?”

Shura shifted enough to glare over his shoulder at the Pisces Saint. “Yes Aphrodite, what can you tell him? You are his faithful lapdog after all.”

His hands folded as he looked at them, his shoulders rounded and face sorrowful. “I don’t know who or what the Grand Master is, just that they are very powerful and possibly divine. For the last thirteen years they’ve been possessing the body of a Saint, Gemini Saga, and masquerading as the Grand Master after murdering him.” He explained quietly. “I began working for the Grand Master when I was fourteen. I needed his help with… something… I can’t remember what. Either way he said he could help with my problem if I was willing to do some extra work in exchange. Assassinations, espionage, that sort of thing. I was nineteen when I finally met Saga. The Grand Master only let him out to handle the mountains of paperwork needed to keep Sanctuary functional.” His hand drifted to the side of his neck where Shura had seen the hickie on it. “Saga’s the complete opposite of the Grand Master. He’s a kind, gentle soul. He used to be Aiolos’s boyfriend, until, well… he was the one who told me about his possession. And it is a possession, possibly divine, according to him.”

“It sounds like this Saga person is as much a victim as you two are. Is there anything that can be done to get rid of this possessor then?” Kemen asked, face grave.

Shura was not entirely sure about whether or not it really was a possession. After all, as far as he knew, the Grand Master was a wicked usurper who would murder anyone without a care in the world. “And if it isn’t possession? If he really is a rotten bastard to the core?”

“If Saga really is a terrible person then I would have dropped him ages ago.” Aphrodite’s vehemence came through clearly. “I want to help both of you so let me already!”

“Why? Why care now? Why didn’t you intervene sooner?” Shura rounded on him.

“Don’t you think I wanted to? Who do you think dragged you to the hospital that night?! You’re one of the closest things I have left to any sort of friendship or family. I should have done more, I get that. So you know what, I’m going to.” Aphrodite stood, tears welling in his eyes as he stormed out the door.

Shura let out a growl and slumped back against the couch. Let him go, he sure as hell didn’t care.  
At least until Kemen put a hand on his shoulder. “Zuzen, Aphrodite is about your age, yes?”

“A little younger.” He mumbled.

“How long have you known him?”

“About thirteen years, but like I said we’re not friends.”

Kemen sighed and rubbed the back of his own neck. “Zuzen, he was in a situation much like you. It may not have had the same effect or happened in the same way, but lashing out isn’t healthy, or helpful. I know you want to blame someone for the way you are hurting right now, and that blame should be focused on the instigator, not another victim.”

Shura processed his grandfather’s words. He did have a point, expecting Aphrodite to help him when he clearly had his own struggles proved fruitless, especially when they needed to work together. Besides, now that Aphrodite had brought it up, he had been the one to take him to the hospital after his second attempt. Maybe he had been to harsh after all. “Right, I’m going to go find him and apologize.”

“Right. Remember to be gentle.”

He pulled on his pair of work boots before he set out, praying Aphrodite hadn’t gone too far. He trapsed out to the barn, his own favorite place to hide when in a bad mood or upset. Unfortunately it didn’t seem that the other Gold Saint shared the same opinion. On the one hand he could light speed and cover more ground, but Aphrodite may perceive it as a threat rather than him coming to talk. Instead Shura saddled up two of the horses, nominally to give them both some time to cool off before they talked.

Once in the saddle, he began to scour the property, trying to think of what he knew of the Pisces Saint. He liked plants, especially pretty plants. If he recalled correctly there was a brook with a lovely patch of wildflowers near the north end of the property. With any luck Aphrodite would be there. The horses made good time over the familiar terrain. With any luck bringing the horses would herald his arrival without scaring Aphrodite off.

The Fates favored him today, as he rounded a small bend in trail to find the other man sprawled on his back and staring up, surrounded by gently swaying flowers. He dismounted and left the horses to graze as he approached.

“Aphrodite?”

“What?” What was likely intended to be snappy and harsh came out tired.

He hesitated before he spoke. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t blame you for what happened to me. That was unfair of me. You also suffered in your own way.”

Aphrodite sniffled, trying to formulate a reply. “Apology accepted. I’m a terrible Saint and not much better of a person. Any time someone needs help I can never do enough, or worse I end up causing them even more pain.” He sobbed quietly. “Like that little Andromeda Saint that killed me? I caused him that same pain I felt when my father died. He’s going to have to live with that for the rest of his life. I’m not entirely I really know what justice is anymore…”

Tentatively, Shura reached out and took his hand. “We’ve both hurt a lot of people to ensure our own survival it seems. I honestly thought someday I would lay down my life to help Aiolia or be killed by him, I’m not sure which. But here we are. Maybe we can be better, I’m not sure how, but it’s said Saints are capable of creating miracles.” He squeezed gently.

“I’m not sure I can really call myself a Saint, but maybe you’re right, Shura. If nothing else saving the world will hopefully bring peace to the people still living here. And that’s something worth fighting for. Right?” He sat up, shaking out his long, golden curls. “Ugh, I’d say my makeup is running, but I know I’m not wearing any right now.”

The Capricorn Saint cracked an awkward smile. “Well tomorrow we’ll probably have to go into town to get groceries, maybe we can pick up some makeup for you there. Call it an apology bribe?”

“I think I’d like that.” Aphrodite lifted Shura’s knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently before he kissed his cheek. “We should probably head back in though.”

His cheeks flushed as he quickly faced away, brown skin even darker with confused embarrassment. “Right.” He stood up and hauled the Pisces Saint up with him. “Um, have you ever ridden before?”

“Not since my father was alive, so I’m rusty, but it shouldn’t be too bad.” He replied before he approached one of the horses. The horse sniffed him curiously before he swung into the saddle.

Somewhat confident Aphrodite didn’t need any help, Shura mounted up once more before he nudged the horse with his heels. “Come on, we can make a list of things we need.”

Aphrodite followed after him, at least initially. It took approximately two minutes for his horse to decide she was having none of this. “Shura. Shura. Help? I’ve no idea where I’m going.” He yelped as the horse veered into the bushes dividing two sections of orchard.

Alarmed, the Capricorn Saint turned his own steed around and trotted to the rescue. The other horse let out an indignant snort before running into a nearby tree to unseat her rider. “Grab onto the branch.” He ordered quickly. More than a little surprised, the tree bent with a creak to scoop Aphrodite from the saddle as the horse broke into a canter. Shura moved his own horse into action, easily catching up and grabbing hold of the loose rein. “Shhh, stop being so fussy, yes?”

The horse’s entire head and neck shook, and he took that as a non committal gesture. Wheeling both animals around, he spotted Aphrodite dangling from the branches, wild eyed. “That was amazing Shura! Can today be over though?”

“I think it can. We may have to switch mounts since someone is in a mood, but the important question is are you hurt?” He asked as he came to a halt beside the tree.

He shook his head as the tree lowered him down. He kissed the branch before it lifted away. “Thankfully no, my new friend here was quite helpful.”

Shura swung down from the saddle as they swapped horses. He led the way back through the orchard, Aphrodite now keeping good pace beside him. “Are you ready to help around the farm tomorrow? You seemed excited to do so.”

That drew a sweet smile to Aphrodite’s lips. “I am. This orchard is lovely, I can’t wait to get to know everyone.”

Shura considered his smile before curiosity bit him. “What do plants sound like?”

“It’s not as clear a voice as you or I, but it is understandable. Plants have very different needs, physically and emotionally from people. They can talk with one another easily enough though and news travels fast.” He tried to explain, even as the Capricorn Saint lost the thread of what he meant. “Sometimes, usually around my birthday, the plants will start singing. But it’s a mingling happiness and sadness.”

“Your birthday is in what, February? March?” He cocked his head.

Aphrodite nodded. “March Tenth, why?”

He thought hard before he answered. “Maybe the sadness comes from knowing the Lady of Spring is missing but having no way to save her. I mean some plants are probably old enough to remember a world with her right?”

“That may very well be it.” The Pisces Saint’s expression grew serious as he closed his eyes. “Perhaps that was what Papa meant when he said the song drew him north…”

“Drew him north?” Shura said as they headed for the barn.

Aphrodite dismounted before he explained. “Yes. My father was originally from France, but a couple of years before he found me, he said that the plants had begun to sing to him to head north because he would find the answer to spring there. Instead he found me.” His smile grew distant and sad.

Again feeling awkward, Shura wrapped an arm around him once he put the saddle back on the rack. “I’m sorry I keep bringing him up.” The far fetched idea that the Vessel of Spring could be Aphrodite crossed his mind. But then again Merlin had said the Pisces Saint had been entrusted to guard the Vessel, not be the Vessel.

“It’s alright, it’s actually kind of nice to have someone to share this with.” He leaned against him.

The warm, lean bulk of Aphrodite pressed against him somehow made Shura feel more at ease. The way his grandfather’s hugs did. “Right. We should get the horses put away now.”

“Right.” The horses were brushed down and returned to the stable, as Shura led them out a different door past the massive machine in the barn. “That thing is huge.”

“That’s the cider press. It’s almost cider season, and that’s when this place turns into a madhouse.” He laughed briefly, and the warm sound sent a blush through Aphrodite’s rosy cheeks. “An army of relatives all helping to pick and press.”

“How much family do you have?” Aphrodite blinked, alarmed at the idea of a familial army.

“A lot. We’re pretty spread out nowadays, but cider season is when we all get together.” He explained as he opened the back door into the house. “It’s quite the exciting time of year.”

The Pisces Saint smiled at him. “That sounds like you have a lot of fun.”

Shura grinned. “We do. Though part of me is hoping Grandpa doesn’t call the cousins in. I- I don’t know exactly if I could handle that right now.” His face fell into the usual, serious expression.

A hand brushed his arm. “It’s alright, Shura. We’re not really in a place to deal with that sort of thing right now. Maybe when this is over you can see them again.”

He shook his head. “That’s assuming we even get the chance to see them. Or that they’ll even want to see me.”

“They’re your family, I’m sure they will. As to whether or not you’ll get the chance, what’s that old saying? ‘Trust to the will of Athena’?” He smiled, fond and sweet.

“Right… you know you’re actually really nice. I always just assumed you were some petty, superfluous bitch.” He said, scrubbing a callused hand through his hair.

Aphrodite winked. “People are complicated.” His expression grew solemn. “And for a while I was a petty bitch of a person. I mean, I’m not even sure how to deal with my own problems. I seem to have been running from them for so long, that since they’ve caught up I’m at a complete loss.”

“Well, for better or worse we’re in this together, we can at least try to support one another.” Shura’s blush returned as he discovered just how interesting the back corner of the kitchen was.

Aphrodite’s lips brushed his cheek as Kemen’s voice rang through the house. “Boys, if you’re back, I’m going into town to pick up some things. If you have anything you want, add it to the list on the fridge.”

The pair spotted the notepad in question and began to write down anything they might need. Mostly some groceries, and Aphrodite asked for some skirts and makeup, with promise to reimburse Kemen later. They handed over the list and he left.

The rest of the night proved oddly subdued, even as Shura and Kemen settled in with the TV watching the last bit of lead up into the World Cup once more and screaming at it in Spanish. Uninterested in sports and unwilling to interrupt family bonding time, Aphrodite excused himself out to the vegetable patch to introduce himself. Once the match was over, Shura and Kemen both decided to head for bed, given that farmwork started early. Aphrodite trailed in some time after, heading for the guest room he’d been given.

However the Pisces Saint found sleep eluded him and he got up, poking his head in on Shura, who was out like a light and curled around a body pillow. The nightmares he thought he had overcome as a child had returned with vengeance. But having someone in bed with him made things easier. Willing himself not to stare, and partly succeeding, he crawled into bed beside Shura, falling asleep not long after.


	5. A Crow, A Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Aphrodite! Please enjoy everyone!

Shura grumbled as he awoke, something warm pressed against his back and draped over his side. The hot tickle of breath on the back of his neck sent a shiver down his spine. There were only three people in this house, which by process of elimination meant - “Aphrodite, it’s time to get up.”

The Pisces Saint however remained asleep, cuddling him closer. Rolling his eyes even as he rolled over, he prodded him. “Come on Aphrodite, we have to get up and do things.”

“Mm mmm.” He grumbled and buried his face in Shura’s chest.

He heaved a sigh and prodded him again. “I’m serious, you said you wanted to help around the farm. Which means you agreed to get up now. At least let me get up.”

Making a small grumble of protest, Aphrodite rolled over onto his back and released Shura. Taking a brief moment of pity on him, he pressed his body pillow to the other man’s arms. Coiling like an irritated snake, Aphrodite cuddled it. With that the Capricorn Saint crawled out of bed to get cleaned up.

Somehow being on the farm made waking up easier. Maybe it was the smell of handmade goat’s milk soap, or the sound of his grandfather making coffee downstairs. Or maybe it was simply being away from Sanctuary for the first time in years, and not under the Grand Master’s thumb. Either way, he finished his morning ablutions and dressed. That just left the conundrum of what to do with Aphrodite.

“Aphrodite, in all seriousness it’s time to get up, if you want some coffee before we get to work. It’s almost five thirty. Come on.” He nudged his side again.

The Pisces Saint rose slowly, more a thousand year old vampire disturbed from a long entombment than a person waking up. “Buh? What?” He mumbled, barely coherent.

“It’s time to get up. You agreed to help out on the farm. Which means we need to get a move on.” He sighed, exasperated.

Aphrodite crawled out of bed, half asleep and mechanical as he attempted to get dressed. Shura stared at this train wreck, worried but also stifling a chuckle as he watched the other man pull on his boxer briefs backwards. Then he struggled with the pair of faded work jeans, unable to get the button closed before he gave up. Lastly, the dark plaid shirt flew into the air haphazardly and landed atop the light blond curls.

“M dressed. Not naked. Very sad. You naked is nice.” His words slurred as he spun to look at Shura triumphantly.

The pants slipped from his hips to his thigh as the shirt fell over his face. Failing now to contain his quiet laughter, he helped fix Aphrodite’s clothes, ardently not thinking about the other man as he did so. Once he had fixed the Pisces Saint’s outfit, the shorter man rocked forward unsteadily and kissed his cheek. Ignoring the gesture, he gently shoved Aphrodite to the door. “Go on, that way.”

The Pisces Saint staggered and flopped back onto the bed. He nestled against the blankets and let out a soft noise of delight. This gave Shura a chance to slap a pair of socks onto his feet before he hauled him over one shoulder. It took some maneuvering to get down the hall and stairs to the kitchen. Kemen was awake and standing over a pot of coffee with two cups on the counter and a third in hand.

“Good morning Zuzen. How are you?” Kemen asked as he handed over one of the cups.

Shura took it before he set Aphrodite down to slump over at the table like a sack of potatoes. “Good, no weird dreams, just Aphrodite sneaking into my bed at some point.”

“He really isn’t a morning person.” Kemen observed with a laugh. “Now, does he drink coffee?”

“Presumably. I think I remember that he does.” He said as he took the other mug and placed it before the dormant Saint. “Look, Aphrodite, coffee. This should help you wake up.” He encouraged as he poked his cheek.

Aphrodite grumbled sleepily as he took the coffee cup and drained it in a long gulp. Shura stared at him, as did Kemen. The Pisces Saint curled back onto the table and dozed again. “You saw that right, Zuzen?” Kemen’s eyebrows creased as he refilled the cup.

Shura considered as Aphrodite repeated the automatic motion of coffee drinking and dozing. Caffeine was a plant toxin. And as a Pisces Saint, he had an extreme immunity to such things. Perhaps he needed something stronger to rouse him? He went over to the cupboard and pulled out a bag of Turkish coffee. “You decided you didn’t like this stuff, right?” He confirmed, holding the bag aloft for his grandfather to see.

Kemen nodded as he took another sip from his mug. “Right. It’s too much caffeine and too bitter for me.”

Taking his time to follow the directions carefully, Shura prepped the Turkish coffee, watching the liquid drip into the pot. Once it was cool enough to reasonably drink, he set the entire pot before Aphrodite. “Look, more coffee, maybe this will help?”

“Mmm, coffee?” He mumbled and clutched the handle. It only took a couple of minutes for him to drain the contents and sit up. “I’m awake, but at what price.” He grumbled, now in the irritably conscious portion of awakening.

Shura took the pot and set it aside. “An entire pot of Turkish coffee and trying to get me to help you dress.”

“Mornings are the literal devil. Whoever invented them should be fired. Or punched in the face. Or both. Both is good.” He grouched and blinked the sleep from his eyes. Sniffling and yawning, he looked out the window. “What time is it?”

“Five forty five in the morning.” Kemen chuckled. “We’re a little behind, but it’s not too big of a deal. After all two Gold Saints eager to work will make it go faster.”

Aphrodite laid his head back on the table. “Eager, eager he says.”

Shura’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “You were the one who agreed to this, Aphrodite. You said you wanted to help out on the farm while you’re here.”

“I know.” He whined softly. Heaving a great sigh, he hauled himself up and redid his hair into a high tail. “Let’s get started then.”

The Capricorn Saint was genuinely surprised by how easily Aphrodite took to farm work, early hours aside. Feeding animals and checking on the plants seemed to come naturally to him. The only difficulty Shura encountered was teaching him how to milk the goats, and making sure the goats in turn would not attack the Pisces Saint unprovoked. As the morning turned into day time and his irritation faded, the two set about the tasks Shura usually handled when he came for a visit, mostly moving equipment around or doing home repairs that weren’t emergencies like a few barn shingles that needed replacing. Rain started in the early evening as they headed in for the day, cutting into the heat of the day.

“We should probably do some training before bed.” Shura sighed.

“Mmm… maybe?” Aphrodite yawned.

“We’re supposed to be looking for an important holy person, and with Lady Athena incarnate, that means that we’re going to run the risk of encountering Specters. Like the Generals. You know as well as I do that Wyvern Rhadamanthys has killed more Saints than- are you even listening?”

Aphrodite had fallen into a light doze but perked as Shura jostled him. “Huh? What?”

“It’s barely six in the evening how are you already asleep?”

“Because I went to bed at two like a normal person and then some gorgeous fucking ass decided to get me up at five.” He yawned again and leaned against Shura’s side.

“Well, let’s eat dinner and then you can go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll do some training.” He relented and guided him inside for dinner. After all, they should try and take advantage of the downtime to prepare for the inevitable challenges ahead such as the Holy War. The evening passed fairly quietly, the storm gently unrelenting as they turned in in for the night.

~

_“Arthur, I’m sorry. If there is a way I can make this up to you, in this life or the next I will.” A hand clasped his. He felt oddly cold and heavy. He couldn’t quite make out the knight’s face, between the mingled blood and rain in his eyes and the other man caked in his own layer of mud and blood._

_“I know, Lancelot. I promise you, we will meet again-” he coughed, something hot and wet dripped over his lips._

_“Rest easy, my friend.”_

_A woman appeared, clutching a golden staff..._

~

“So this is your old training ground?” Aphrodite asked as he folded his umbrella closed and stifled a yawn.

Shura had been kind enough to let him sleep through the morning until seven. In part so he could go and scout out said location. He hadn’t seen his master around when he’d come out earlier, but then again given that the rain hadn’t let up in the night, perhaps his master had decided to sleep in. The field still remained the same as ever, including boulders worn in with his punches, and a narrow circuit where he had gone running.

“It is.”

“It’s a lovely little field, and look at that mountain.”

Over the treeline rose a mountain peak, crowned in a ring of sunlight as the rainstorm slid around it in a wide berth. “That’s the home of the Ruling Goddess and her consort, the Nine-Headed Dragon Lord.”

“Huh. If there’s gods here, why become a servant of Lady Athena?”

“If you’re from Sweden why are you not in Asgard as a God Warrior?”

“Touché.”

Shura looked up at the mountain and pushed his damp curls out of his face. “I grew up on stories of the Captain and Capricorn Sendoa. I wanted to be a Saint like them…”

“I think you’re admirable.”

“You keep saying things like that. Why?”

“Because maybe if I say it enough you’ll start to believe it. Attitude may not be everything, but the first step to change is wanting to do so. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Shura’s face heated up in a blush and he quickly turned away from Aphrodite. “Come on, we should get warmed up.”

The pair of them stretched and started with some light exercises, gear left over in the shelter of an oddly shaped boulder. Once they’d warmed up, a faint frown crossed the Capricorn Saint’s lips. “Now what.”

Aphrodite cocked his head, eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean what now?”

“I could pulverize these boulders with a flick of my wrist, using them for conditioning wouldn’t provide a challenge.” He looked at one boulder, drops of water trickling down the cracks and dents left by his fist as a child. “I’m sure my master would be able to think of something, but they aren’t here right now.”

The Pisces Saint curled a finger to the tip of his chin as he thought before a slow smile crept along his face. He lifted his hand and folded his other arm behind his back. “The boulder is not a worthy opponent. I’m ready.”

Concerned he might shatter all the bones in Aphrodite’s left side, but not so concerned as to stop, Shura threw a jab at his waiting palm. The target moved again and he swung with a cross. He slid around as Aphrodite side stepped and threw another punch.

“So this master of yours, they live around here?”

“Yes. They are a noble and powerful warrior and have been on many an adventure. According to one story, they’ve even travelled to the Underworld.” Shura ducked an unexpected ridge hand from Aphrodite, before he threw a low hook at the presented target.

“You mean they’re a survivor of the last Holy War like the old man in Gôrôhô?”

“Something like that. The way I understand it is that gods of death keep their own semi-interconnected domains, but as the gods have left and the Holy Wars have ravaged the world, those lands have become indistinct.”

“I see. I suppose that makes sense. Still travelling to the Underworld is no easy feat. Trade off?”

Shura held up his hand as Aphrodite threw a cross and connected swiftly. “I had hope that when the time came for us to prepare for the Holy War my master would be here and I could ask for some advice on the matter. But as I said, they don’t seem to be here right now.”

“Can’t say I blame them, if I had the option I wouldn’t be out in the rain more than necessary.”

“Funny. I would have thought you would love the rain.”

Aphrodite threw a quick jab and ridge hand combo. “I’m not actually a plant. Besides I grew up in Greenland. Nine months of snow and rain the other three. We only got three consistent channels of TV out there, even with a high end system. Papa used to say you couldn’t find our house with a hunting dog and a ouija board.”

“I see.” Admittedly his mind conjured the image of Aphrodite in the middle of a glacier in a small shack carved from pure ice with a tv powered by a small bike and a potato. His train of thought cut off as something lumbered from the gloom of the rain and forest behind the Pisces Saint. “Ah!”

Aphrodite paused mid-punch and his face fell. “Shura. Shura, that’s a bear.”

The shape resolved into a massive bear, easily the size of a polar bear, though with fur mottled between black and brown and a strange blond spot on their chest. The bear reared up onto two thick hind legs and leg out a roar. The Capricorn Saint charged forward, and pulled the bear to him, and the bear, bizarrely, hugged him in return.

“Shura!” Aphrodite’s voice cracked as he screamed.

“Master! I was wondering how long it would take you to awaken.” He beamed up at the bear holding him.

“Shura, I reiterate, that. Is. A. BEAR!”

The bear let out a grumbling chuff as Shura drew back. “Oh, right. Aphrodite, this is Master Xan. Master, this is Pisces Aphrodite. He’s another Saint.”

The bear, or Xan, stalked past Shura and towered over to Aphrodite. “Hello.” He waved, fingers flexing briefly as the massive nose huffed in his face.

On the one hand this was a bear, one of the most dangerous creatures in both Sweden and Greenland. On the other this bear had hugged Shura, and now that he had a clear view, seemed to be wearing a leather bag and belt. Another roar filled the air as one massive paw patted the damp blond curls.

“Master, maybe you should transform?” Shura encouraged.

Xan looked back at him and nodded. Reality slipped past sideways into weird as fur receded into smooth, freckled skin and long, wild red hair. The person was at least as tall as Aldebaran, if not taller, wearing a bearskin skirt. Their face was amazingly youthful as they let out a laugh.

“Zuzen you’ve gotten yourself quite the catch.” They pulled him into a side hug.

“Oh no, we’re not- I mean, it’s complicated.” Shura tripped over his words.

“Oh come now, a beautiful rose like this only graces a garden once in a lifetime.” They smiled.

Aphrodite flushed. “Oh, thank you!”

“My apologies if I scared you before. I haven’t seen Zuzen here since his Cloth Trial for Equuleus.” They ruffled Shura’s hair. “He grew up splendidly.”

“Master…”

“Ah, where are my manners, people around here call me Xan Artz once upon a time. Though you may know me better as Jean de l’Ors?”

“I thought you were a fairy tale dreamed up by Papa!” Aphrodite blinked.

Xan smiled and ran a hand through their hair. “I used to travel the world in my youth, but now I live here. The Wise Owl once did me a great kindness when I was young, so when she asked me to train this fine fellow here, I thought it only fitting to repay my debt. So Zuzen, what brings you here?”

Shura explained as best he could about their situation, between seeking the Vessel, the impending Holy War, and their own untimely demises. “Any advice or training you could offer us in this time would be most helpful.”

“I’ve nothing left really to teach you if you’ve become a Gold Saint. The most I can do is observe your workouts and offer feedback. As to advice…” Xan closed their eyes and thought for a few moments. “Trust to your feelings and friends, Zuzen. That’s really all I can tell you. You’ve been alone so long that sometimes it can be hard to trust another person. But if you let them in, there’s a greater power to be found than your strength alone. Now, are you two warmed up?”

They stepped back and withdrew a staff of twined iron and poplar wood from the pouch at their hip. Both Saints set into fighting stances and charged in, hope renewed despite the clichéd nature of the advice. Xan pushed both of them hard in their spar, and unused to working with one another, Shura and Aphrodite found themselves getting in one another’s way. Shura would go to strike only to have Aphrodite move into his line of attack. Aphrodite in turn, couldn’t utilize his roses due to Shura perpetually getting in range of the pollen cloud. Not to mention Xan’s staff meant both of them were fighting at a nonoptimal middle range rather than close or far.

By the time Xan’s training session ended, both Saints were exhausted. “Not bad, you’ve both got potential, but we can definitely hone that technique.” They let out a yawn. “Mmm, rainy days always make me so sleepy. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Xan clapped both of them on the shoulder and walked away, turning once more into bear form.

“Shura, next time we die, we’re reviving in the Bahamas and retiring.” Aphrodite groaned as he slumped down into the wet grass.

“That I will concede you…” He agreed and flopped beside him.

 


End file.
